A new year.

So here we are, 2010. Today I made my first mistake of writing “09” instead of “10”– it was on a jar of ragu Bolognese that I had cooked up today. How are we supposed to refer to this year? Are we supposed to say “two thousand and ten” every single time? I was just getting used to saying “oh nine,” and now I have to jump from two syllables to five syllables? It wouldn’t make much sense to just say “ten,” though, would it? Or I suppose we could say “twenty ten”? Yes, these are profound thoughts, indeed. I’m curious as to what other people think.

Really, I thought I should muse on the obligatory New Year’s Day sort of stuff, such as, what are my hopes, predictions, or resolutions for this year? Or maybe I should look back at 2009 and celebrate my achievements and/or excoriate my weaknesses?

I don’t want to spend too much time looking back at 2009, frankly. It wasn’t my worst year, but I feel impatient at the thought of tallying up everything that happened. Did I grow as a person? Did I work hard? Did I try my best to live by my principles? Yes, yes, and mostly.

These are my hopes for 2010, then.

1. I hope that we will be able to sell our house and move to a new one. This one feels pretty much out of my control at this point, other than doing what I’ve already done to market the house and cleaning it too many times to count. We even had a showing yesterday, on December 31, believe it or not. At least people want to look at it, even if they don’t want to buy it. Can I just say I’m weary of making everything clean and shiny and tidy and immaculate all the time?

2. I hope that I will be able to find some measure of calm and groundedness on a daily basis. I want to establish some kind of daily or semi-daily rhythm that will feel good and right for me and Lily. My thoughts turn continually to very basic activities: spending time wandering outdoors; focusing on food (growing it, getting it from farmers, cooking, eating); making sure we all sleep as well and as regularly as possible; hanging out with friends as often as possible; and ideally, spending a lot less time on the computer.

3. I hope that I will figure out a way to get enough exercise. I cancelled my membership at the Y. I’m not sure what I’m going to do at this point. Should I get a stationary bike and ride it in the basement while Lily sleeps? Should I go snowshoeing with Lily on my back? (This seems like a sure-fire way to throw out my back.)

4. I want to fully assess my health needs, physical and mental, and arrange to have them addressed in a way that is genuinely helpful and affordable. This feels next to impossible.

5. I hope that I will improve as a parent and find a way to be exceedingly patient and wise and unflappable and quick to offer just the right remedy for difficult situations (i.e., “learning opportunities”). I also really, really hope that this will be the year that Lily learns to sleep through the night as well as use the potty.

6. I hope that Lily and I will find lots of ways to relax, have fun, and discover new things, people, activities. I hope we will keep singing and dancing a lot.

7. I hope that I will be able to go out on more romantic dates with my husband.

8. I hope that my dad’s health will remain stable and that his maintenance chemotherapy treatments will be exactly what is needed.

9. I hope that everyone on earth will miraculously rise up with one voice and say, “No more war! No more poverty! No more exploitation! No more destruction of the natural world! No more greed and violence and hatred!” and proceed to do everything it takes to create health, beauty, justice, and sanity for all. This is a hope that will probably go unrealized, I know. But despite the probability that circumstances may get a lot worse for many, I also hope that we will all find ways to mitigate suffering and destruction and that more and more people will look into their hearts and declare, “I must live by my highest principles. I must live with integrity and take action, no matter the outcome.”

I leave you with a quote from Hafiz, a Persian poet and mystic who lived in the 14th century:

Even after all this time,the sun never says to the earth, “You owe me.”Look what happens with a love like that.It lights the whole sky.

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I’d like to say “twenty ten,” but it sound so different, after a decade of “two thousands” that perhaps we’ll all end up referring to “two thousand ten.” Then again, in history we refer to “nineteen ten” and “eighteen ten,” so perhaps it will be “twenty ten” after all.